Under His Suit (Love Under Lockdown Book 16)

by Jamie Knight

  “You really do have to say. And where are your glasses?” Mahira asked.

  “Must be in my room, maybe.”

  “So, tell me all about it,” Mahira insisted.

  “I just... It just happened to us,” Tory explained dreamily.

  “But how do you feel?”

  “About?” Tory asked, confused.

  “Do you think you were momentary entertainment for a bored, trapped billionaire or that there is something more to it?” Mahira asked, a grave tone to her voice which made Tory wonder if she was jealous to some extent.

  “I’m not sure. It felt like something was there but maybe it was just in my imagination. We didn’t speak a great deal but really connected afterward,” Tory said and watched Mahira’s face reflect the fact that she was thinking, as if small gears were turning in her brain, making lights come on in her eyes as new ideas appeared to her.

  “So, when Mr. Dawes likes your idea better than anyone else's…” Mahira began.

  “I don’t really have an idea. I mean, not specifically, anyway.”

  “They shot me down already. I know when I’m merely colorful window dressing.”

  Tory just sighed. She didn’t know how to comfort Mahira and she felt bad about causing her any distress. But she felt really, really great about what had happened between Harlan and herself, and she didn’t want anything to ruin that.

  ***

  Ms. Kalinski’s heels exploded into the design studio, her skintight black on black ensemble coupled with the mask and gloves making Tori wonder what she did in her spare time.

  Taking up a position at an unused workstation, she appeared via Zoom on each person’s desktop as well as the big monitor on the far wall. She took off her mask, giving them a look at her goth black lipstick, probably on purpose, Tory mused.

  “We now have our COVID-19 test kits. A specialist is scheduled to join us this afternoon. I’m sending you each a memo that has the info that came with the kits regarding its use, effectiveness, and recommendations.”

  A tone interrupted Ms. Kalinski as a window opened up in the corner of the screen, with Harlan inside it. Tory’s heart jumped and her panties dampened.

  “Does that go for me as well?” Harlan asked.

  “You can have your test administered anywhere you’d like, Mr. Dawes,” Ms. Kalinski gushed.

  “I just want to get mine done when theirs is done. That way we can sit in the conference room and really hash this thing out,” Harlan explained. “Team, I have asked Mr. Linder to sit this one out for various reasons. I’m going to work with you to see if we can find that spark of something new to give the iGo Icon and help NextThing.Net meet its deadline.”

  “Provided everyone’s results is negative, of course,” Ms. Kalinski reminded him.

  “Of course,” Harlan conceded. “In the meantime, let’s all focus our energies on the icon. Carpe Diem, people. Carpe Diem.”

  His window shrunk to a pinpoint of light and disappeared.

  Tory let out a sigh, trying not to be too obvious about her disappointment that he was gone and that she wasn’t sure when she should next see him.

  ***

  That afternoon, Tory followed Ms. Kalinski into the conference room and took a seat near Dan, who sat smiling quietly when Tori entered.

  “I see you passed with flying colors,” Dan kidded her as she sat down.

  The test had been quite uncomfortable and despite the time that elapsed, her eyes still teared up and her nostril felt a little sore.

  Mahira came in and sat down heavily.

  “I am not really enjoying this part. Don’t know how you can begin to concentrate on anything after that,” she complained.

  “I feel a little relieved,” Dan said, “I was honestly worried for a number of days.”

  “I’m glad to have something real to focus on other than the death toll and what we’re all going to do afterwards. The economy is due to be dealt quite a blow if the quarantine carries on. The landscape is shifting beneath our feet as we speak,” Mahira said.

  The door opened again, and Harlan came in with a tray of coffee and pastry from the cafeteria. Tory was so glad to see him again.

  “I put this together myself. I just want you all to know how happy I am that we

  can work like this, as long as quarantine is maintained,” he said.

  The original slideshow of images composed of Trace Linder’s concepts of the iGo Icon history played on the monitor behind Harlan as he sat down to get out of the way.

  “I really like what Trace tried to conserve in his concepts. It’s just that they all give me a feeling that I’m just looking at any other current icon that iGo has in use. Not newer, better or faster.”

  “This is why I suggest a completely outlandish, super different color while maintaining all the other recognizable graphic shapes,” Mahira said, affirming her initial impression.

  Everyone waited for her to continue, so she did.

  “There was once a job, I forget the client. He spoke about radically different ideas. He wanted a black icon with black and off black graphics, you may know who I’m talking about. He’s got that whole hipster Kerouac thing going. I gave him his edgy app icon. I was into it. Did my best. His user demographics killed it. Older people, they couldn’t handle it. If they had a dark home screen background, forget about it. For these reasons, I wouldn’t suggest black on black. Ever.”

  “Aren’t we all, you know, after yesterday, aren’t we all set on the idea that the three colors in the original icon are so strongly associated with the company’s brand that we’re to keep ‘em?” Dan said, carefully.

  “Trace has come up with some truly clever variations on the original, retaining those three colors and using them in different proportions to one another, giving one or two transparency even, but they all seem more a variation than anything truly new or exciting,” Harlan said.

  “What I was saying before, I still believe. I think you need to keep the colors. Just present them differently,” Tory said.

  “That is really what Trace has been doing,” Harlen said gently.

  “No, no, no. He presents the colors the same way, just in different shapes,” Tory clarified.

  “What do you mean?” Harlan asked, his brows arched in interest.

  “Perception is hazy. No, not hazy, I mean fluid, right? World in motion. What our eyes see registers in our minds even when the images or colors are glimpsed for an instant. You don’t see or really look for the Cobalt blue E of Explorer, just that splotch of color,” Tory suggested.

  She rose from her seat to approach the screen as Trace Linder’s concepts faded from one to the next.

  “What if instead of altering the graphics significantly, then adding the colors in these separate little fields on the globe layer, the three significant hues are a nebulous presence, a blurred intersection of color, the way they are represented when you’re asked to choose a color in a program, or if you could make a gradient of the three colors?” she asked.

  The conference room was silent. Harlan’s mouth hung open a moment before he was ready to say anything.

  “A gradient. A gradient,” he repeated, clearly thinking.

  “Yes. A gradient,” Tory affirmed.

  “Let’s take a break, gang. We’ll meet back here in a couple of hours,” Harlan said, looking at Tory as Mahira quickly got up and left the room.

  ***

  Upstairs in his office, Harlan played with differing gradient fills until he found one he thought was representative of the brand’s colors by proportion.

  He played around superimposing a transparent graphic layer of the Icon on top of the gradient and moving it about.

  The idea seemed vital. It was new. It was out of left field and he loved it.

  Excited, he paced the floor, hoping that he wasn’t being overly enthusiastic about Tory’s idea because of how great he felt just to be in the room with her.

  Certainly, the idea needed some refinement but the
re was time. He knew he could do it. He sat down and looked out over the city for an immeasurable period before rising and commanding the Smart TV on.

  “Replay security archive VS 1, please,” Harlan requested.

  The footage of Tory snapping pics in the auditorium played. In seeing her marvel at his design, he decided to trust her vision and let her do the entire iGo job on her own.

  ***

  Anxious during the time that she waited to return to the conference room, Tory sat down with her phone to check her messages while relaxing on the bed in her small suite. There were a couple from her mother, even though she had just spoken to her the previous evening.

  Before Tory could call her back, the phone vibrated in her hands. When she saw Jude’s face and name appear on the screen, she didn’t know what to do. It was as if something reached out from her childhood all of a sudden, even she was no longer a child.

  “Hello,” she answered, with fake calm.

  “Hey, Tory,” Jude said, in a rush of excitement. “So glad to hear you, your voice, I mean. I hope you don’t get near anybody with that bat disease. Can you believe it? Chinese bats! It’s insanity. They think the virus jumped from the bats to another species and then to humans. Jumping virus, Tory! From bats. They say it was a wet market. I don't know what that means, but were they selling bats?”

  “I don’t really know what’s going on. Rumors are flying. They say that one isn’t true. I don't think we will ever really know what’s going on in the world today. My father used to say they shot Kennedy on TV in front of the whole nation and we still don’t actually know what happened.”

  “Yeah, your old man’s a trip, anyway, I was talking to your mom and she says you’re in quarantine with that hotshot scumbag, Harlem Dawes,” he remarked.

  “Harlan. And he’s not a scumbag,”

  “Right, Harlem Dawes. I’ve seen him with a shit ton of skanky supermodels. He’s just another old guy, who’ll jump on anything hot and you know it,” he countered, “Do your Social Distancing even further than normal with that one, Tory, please. And what do you wear over there, anyway?”

  “I have to get back to the design studio. They are letting the contest winners, who are here in quarantine, work in the design studio. We are revamping the iGo App’s Icon,” she told him brightly.

  “Wow, that is big, Tory. I wanna come see you. We need a celebration in all this. There are dark days ahead. The death toll is rising, the stock market plummets. People are scared.”

  “I’m really trying to focus on the positive. I’m looking at this as an opportunity,” she told him. “Plus, we, um, broke up, remember?”

  She tried to say it gently because she didn’t want to upset him.

  “Yeah, yeah. But I have a feeling we can get back together if we can just see each other again. But whatever you do, just stay away from that Dawes guy. Don’t let him tempt you. Or like lead you into temptation,” he said, sounding as if he was quoting the Lord’s Prayer.

  “Don’t worry about me. Worry about our parents. Don’t travel unnecessarily, like they say on the news,” she warned.

  “You know I love you, Tory. Ever since sixth grade. Even when you were taller than me,” he said.

  “Forget about those times, back when things were simple,” she said. “Things have gotten very, very complicated now.”

  “They sure have,” he agreed.

  Tory knew he was talking about the virus. But she was talking about how her entire life had changed ever since coming to New York. She wasn’t going to mention that to him, though. She just said goodbye, grateful to be getting off the phone.

  Chapter 15

  Dan sat in the conference room at the far end with Harlan when Tory walked back in. Immediately, Harlan waved her over.

  “Sorry, I was on the phone,” Tory began to explain.

  “Oh. No, you’re not late. I called Dan in a few minutes earlier,” Harlan told her, “I have a couple things. First. Mahira has bowed out. You’ll see her quarantining here but she’s off the iGo project. Next thing. Get it? ‘NextThing’? I love saying that again. It got old around here real quick,” he joked with them.

  Dan laughed loudly, as if relieved by Harlan’s levity.

  “The Gradient,” Harlan pronounced majestically, beaming at Tory. “We are going to run with this. And when I say we, I mean you, Ms. Stadler, ably assisted by Dan Ennick.”

  Tory’s smile delighted him so that when Dan stood up to shake his hand and thank him for the opportunity, he had no idea what had been said at all.

  Quite satisfied with the turn of events and his own handling of the situation, Harlan worked out enthusiastically and then soaked in the pool afterwards. Stresses falling away, he wanted Tory again more than ever and became aroused remembering the orgasmic plunder of the previous evening.

  Out of the pool, he started off toward the elevator but turned around and walked back to the picture window over the city, where he had found Tory, previously. Harlan walked up to the glass. He could still see her handprint. He raised his hand to it for a moment and had an idea.

  Tory had just showered when her phone beeped. She picked it up and saw the text was from Harlan.

  MEET ME IN THE LOBBY AT 9PM.

  Then there was a follow-up text.

  DRESS WARM.

  Excited but not certain what to expect, Tory put her jeans on again and zipped her light blue suede jacket over a sweater.

  In the lobby, Harlan walked up to her in his leather cafe racer’s jacket with a pair of helmets.

  “You want to go out,” Tory remarked, not sure how good of an idea that was right now, during the pandemic.

  “I want to show you my social distancing machine,” he said with a grin.

  Harlan took her to a door in the elevator bay that led to the garage. His matte black Ducati motorcycle purred in its kickstand, reverberating wildly in the empty garage. As he swung his leg over it and sat down, Tory straddled the warm cycle and was thrilled by the vibration.

  Upon the rumble and roar of the cycle, she held him by the waist, and they flew over empty lengths of highway, the city an amazing blur. Light and alien emptiness. Her hands carefully explored Harlan’s body as the cycle roared between her legs. In that moment, she knew what she wanted exactly from life, and she knew where she wanted it to start.

  The cycle glided over a bridge into Queens County, giving Tory a view of the river, and into the windows of nice bright Midtown properties. In Long Island City, they paused to take in the view before riding back into Manhattan.

  Wrapping herself around him more fully, him holding him tighter, she closed her eyes and lived in the pure sensation of their closeness, the movement of air and growl of the engine.

  Alone in her thoughts, her mind spun fantasies she had never dared to allow it. It had seemed that truly opening the door to her sexuality had brought on a boldness of thought as well. The iGo Icon was child's play in comparison to her work, which, more often than not, appeared in dimensions larger than a thumbnail.

  Mahira was right when she said Harlan had turned their resumes into gold, she thought. For the first time in her life, she envisioned herself in parts of the world far from the cheese state: London, Vancouver, Tokyo.

  She opened her eyes and became firmly grounded in the present moment. Passing streets that had already become familiar, they turned, and Harlan steered them down the ramp into the garage.

  In the elevator, Harlan pressed the button for his floor, then gently took off Tory’s helmet and looked at her eyes, which were full of delight and mystery. He smiled at her as he removed his own helmet.

  “I don't know another way to say this. And I don’t think I’d like to say this another way,” Harlan said just above a whisper, “I want you. All the time.”

  “I feel the same way,” she confessed, also in a whisper.

  The elevator opened to his lounge. Harlan stepped down first and walked over to his Smart TV and put his phone in the stand atop.


  “Music,” Harlan prompted. “No Pussyfooting, Eno and Fripp.”

  As the spacey synth and guitar composition bloomed from the speakers, Tory began to slowly walk down the four steps, looking out upon the city lights while taking her suede jacket off.

  Seeing her there above the room on the second step, Harlan threw his own jacket off, and rushed to her before she could take another step. He buried his face in her crotch, his hands roughly squeezing her bouncy ass.

  He searched for her scent through the fabric. She trembled slightly, feeling the frenzy in his fingers as he struggled briefly with the snap and peeled the tight jeans over her thighs once again. Suddenly she found herself over Harlan’s shoulder, her jeans coiled at her ankles, one hand of his running the smooth length of her thighs while the fingers of the other were rubbing their way beneath her thong.

  Down the two remaining steps, Harlan put her down, her back on the sofa. She looked at him as he stripped out of his pants. His huge erection popped up and out of his briefs as he kicked them away, the muscles of his arms and shoulders in bold relief under the cool white glow of the skyline.

  As he lifted her ankles above her head, Tory moaned, and Harlan pushed his fingers into her mouth. He pulled them out and kissed her hard while slowly curling his saliva moistened fingers in and out of the swelling folds of her pussy.

  Harlan pulled her sweater up over her head and let the fabric hold her wrists above her out of the way. Then he freed her breasts and started to firmly rub her nipples in turn between his thumb and forefinger.

  Tory’s breathing became ragged gasps as she’d rhythmically begun to push herself up, offering him more. Unable to control himself further, Harlan took hold of her legs just below the knee and drove himself as deeply into Tory as he could, bearing down on her with his full weight as they kissed and kissed.

  He began thrusting, faster, harder, then faster still, pinning her to a spot in the universe that was his over and over. Her moans drove him on. When she’d started to hotly beg “fuck me,” Harlan had to fight his own orgasm in order to bear hers.